


A Friend In Deed

by Brate



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Off-World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They find a power signature, and then they find trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend In Deed

Blending blue with green, John Sheppard dragged the paintbrush through the new color and applied it meticulously. He lifted his gaze to the view off the east pier, then back to the canvas. Not quite the right shade. He mixed in some more green.

The loud clomping signaled his teammate's arrival long before Rodney McKay's voice called out, " _Finally_. I was about to…what are you doing?" McKay paused a few feet away as a look of bewilderment attacked his face.

John made a show of looking down at the easel and paints. "Lorne leant me his kit. I'm painting."

McKay walked around to stand behind him. "No. You aren't," he declared.

John would've taken offense, but McKay was right. A four-year-old could out-paint him. His ATA gene must've taken all the available space from his artistic gene.

"Well, luckily I'm not interrupting anything," McKay continued. "Get your stuff and let's go."

John looked around, wondering if he was supposed to collect the art supplies. "What stuff?"

"You know." McKay flapped his hand around. "Your military stuff: gun, tac vest.... We're going on a mission."

"Um, no we're not. We're off today."

"Ah ha." McKay lifted a finger to point at him. "We _were_ off today. Now we're on."

"McKay, I'm the military commander of this base. I think I'd know if we were going on a mission."

"Elizabeth already cleared it. Come on."

"No."

"Oh, come on," McKay whined. "You owe me."

"I owe you? For what?"

"All those times I saved your life."

John put down his paintbrush and crossed his arms. "Are we really keeping track now? Should we count them all up and see who owes who?"

"Whom," McKay corrected automatically.

"I'm not taking grammar lessons from you, McKay. It's my first day off in almost three months, and I intend to enjoy it."

"I'd do it for you."

John barked a laugh. "Bullshit. I'd have to tie you up and drag you, with you screaming obscenities the whole way. What is this about?"

Instantly, McKay's expression went from fake to real pleading. And, yes, apparently, John had been around him long enough that he could actually tell the difference.

"Taylor's team on M7D-164 recorded a weird power spike, and I want to check it out."

John tried to remember which planet that was. "Oh, the planet with the ruins?" Like that narrowed it down. But McKay was already nodding.

"Yes, exactly. A _power spike_ in the _ruins_ that could be _Ancient_. I want to check it out."

"Isn't Dr. Curry with them?"

McKay snorted. "I don't trust Curry to find his own ass with both hands, a map, and a flashlight. I need to be there. We could use all the power we can get. Come on. Ronon's in."

"You already talked Ronon into this?"

"Talk him into it? I barely got out 'Hey, do you want to?' and he was jumping at the chance."

John narrowed his eyes.

"Okay. I offered him three chocolate bars."

"What about Teyla?"

"She went to the mainland, and I don't want to bother her on her day off."

John pointedly eyed the easel.

"Oh, please," McKay said dismissively. "You're one step away from finger-painting. I'm just saving you from further embarrassment. You know you're bored out of your mind."

It was true, but also the last thing he'd admit when he could finagle something out of McKay. "That's too bad," John said, "because I've been having these cravings...especially since everyone snapped up what the _Daedulus_ brought on its last run."

McKay shuffled from foot to foot before slumping with a sigh. "Fine… you can have my last candy bar."

"Now, that doesn't seem fair. Ronon gets three, and I only get one?"

McKay's lips pinched tight. "What do you want?"

"Next time I want to do something and Elizabeth disagrees, I want you to side with me." John thought he managed to keep the smirk off his face.

"But what if it's something stupid?"

"Doesn't matter—you're on my side. _And_ I'll let you keep your chocolate."

McKay scowled but caved. "Deal."

"Okay, I'll meet you in the gate room in twenty minutes." John had barely gotten it out before McKay was already scurrying away. Turning back to his painting, John tilted his head. Then tilted it the other way. Nope...still crap.

Thank God for this mission.

~*~*~*~

Rodney scowled as yet another branch smacked him in the face. Why anything significant always seemed to be found on these backwater, godforsaken planets, he had no idea. It was an hour's hike from the gate to the base camp, and the only view he was treated to was trees or Sheppard's backside. Neither was something he wanted to look at for an extended time. It just seemed pointless to Rodney to have the gate so far from what remained of civilization. If you were going to live on a planet, you might as well have a stargate close by. Maybe they thought they were fooling the Wraith. Or, more likely, it was easier to defend. Whatever...it just meant a long frickin' hike for Doctor Rodney McKay.

This was the reason Rodney hadn't bothered to investigate before. Captain Taylor's team was the second assigned since the initial reconnoiter. Neither team had found anything except a small, nearly-empty building. There had been nothing useful or vaguely interesting, and Rodney had easily dismissed it from his mind or plans. It wasn't until he saw Curry's report on the power spike that he'd cursed his previous decision.

When they crested the valley housing their destination, Rodney saw the team's tents in the near-distance. Beyond were the crumbling stone pillars and the only remains of the planet's architecture. He quickly passed Sheppard.

Just as quickly, he was jerked back by a hand on his collar.

"Soldiers first, McKay," Sheppard reminded him.

Normally Rodney was all for letting the grunts confront any lurking danger, but this was a secure location and scientifically important. "Colonel—"

"I don't want to hear it, Rodney." Sheppard had that look in his eye.

Rodney figured he'd be better off picking battles he could win. "Fine, why don't you go ahead and impede scientific progress of any kind with your overactive paranoia."

"Yeah, thanks, I will." Turning, Sheppard resumed his snail's pace.

Ignoring Ronon's deep chuckle, Rodney followed. After another ten minutes slogging in Sheppard's wake, they reached the base camp. One tent had been set up for sleeping, another for equipment. Captain Taylor came to greet them, giving Sheppard a sit-rep while Rodney waited patiently for them to finish their military crap. Just as he was about to take out his sidearm and shoot the colonel in the back, Sheppard glanced over his shoulder and gave him the go-ahead nod.

Rodney shoved past Sheppard and hurried over to Curry, who didn't react quite as quickly as Rodney would've liked. Perhaps he hadn't reasserted his authority lately.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sheppard start his standard perimeter check while Ronon held back, scanning everything from a vantage point immediately outside of the cleared area. Blocking out his teammates, Rodney flipped through the computer screens, instantly analyzing what he read. He huffed in exasperation. "You brought me here for this?"

"I didn't actually invite you, McKay," Curry grumbled.

As Rodney tried to rein in his disgust at the excuses of his lessers, another spike appeared—just for a moment—on the screen.

"Another one," Curry said. "Bigger."

"Did you even graduate from high school?" Rodney asked derisively. "And can you do anything except state the obvious?"

"Such as 'you're an asshole'?" Curry snapped back.

"Still too obvious," Sheppard said, appearing from nowhere as usual. How could someone that slouchy be that stealthy?

"Problem?" Sheppard smiled, probably knowing he was pissing Rodney off.

Rodney swallowed what he wanted to say and instead reported, "The barely-there spike from earlier is back…and bigger."

"And that means?" Sheppard asked.

"Perhaps this wasn't a complete waste of my time."

"Glad to hear _your_ time isn't being wasted."

Rodney glanced up, but Sheppard had the "innocent" look on his face again.

"Now what?" Sheppard asked.

"Now we track down whatever's causing it." Rodney pointed at the ruins. "That way."

~*~*~*~

John signaled Captain Taylor and Sergeant O'Reilly to watch their six as he followed McKay and Curry. Ronon was already trailing the scientists; John caught up with them easily. He wasn't worried about them running into anything dangerous per se, the planet had been cleared. But John also knew that no place was completely safe, especially in the Pegasus Galaxy. And if anyone was going to find trouble, it was Rodney McKay.

They walked toward the only intact building that John privately thought of as "the shed." He eyed the structure, overrun with plants and weeds, and got a strange knot in his gut. But he was an expert at pushing aside unwanted emotions and ignored the feeling, trading it instead for wariness as they entered the main door.

There wasn't much to the place: one large room, with two bathroom-sized ones branching off. A few fragments lay around the floor, but nothing to suggest what kind of place this had been.

McKay pounded his fingers against his tablet, then moved, surprisingly confident, to a blank wall. "Colonel?" he said, snapping his fingers.

John rolled his eyes and stepped forward, automatically moving his hands over the wall and feeling for a trigger of some sort. A door opened, and a musty smell wafted out. "Abracadabra," John drawled. He looked at McKay and made an _after you_ gesture.

McKay started forward then stopped suddenly and frowned. "No, I insist, after you," he said, as if knowing John had been ready to yank him back again...in front of everyone else.

John smiled. Rodney knew him too well. Lifting his P-90, John flipped on the attached light and directed it inside. Near the opening was a staircase heading underground. "Shall we?" he asked. He ordered McKay to "Stay," then turned and started down the stairs before the scientist could argue.

John led the military contingent down a dozen or so steps. As he hit the ground level, he swung his flashlight around. It quickly became unnecessary as a string of blue lights began to glow down the short corridor, pushing back the shadows.

Underground bunkers in the Pegasus Galaxy usually boded poorly, but this one had an "Atlantis" vibe to it, semi-verified by its reaction to his presence. The familiarity allowed John to relax minutely.

A hallway stretched about twenty feet ahead with a trio of open doors: one on the end, one to the left about four feet in, and the last to the right about two-thirds the way down. John flicked a wrist signaling O'Reilly and Taylor to check the first room. He and Ronon moved to investigate the second. At the door, they split to either side of the frame.

That's when he heard the light stomp of boots coming down the stairs—McKay's attempt to be sneaky. Spinning around, John furiously whispered, "I told you to stay upstairs."

McKay nodded slowly. "Yes, well, you didn't say for how long."

"You know damn well that means until I give the okay."

"Didn't you?" McKay asked in mock surprise. "I swear I heard it. I'd better get my radio checked when we get back to Atlantis."

"If you make it back."

"Is that a threat?" McKay blustered. "Don't kid yourself; you wouldn't survive a day without me, Colonel."

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ronon, why don't you check this room? We'll take the one on the end." He grabbed hold of McKay's shirtsleeve and pulled him to the final door. By the time they were ready, O'Reilly was already exiting the first room with an "All clear, sir."

Dr. Curry, no doubt listening for permission, hurried down the steps toward the cleared room. John shook his head. _Scientists_. He brought up his weapon and slipped through the remaining doorway. John would swear he could feel McKay's breath on the back of his neck. He mentally rolled his eyes. No matter how many times he was told otherwise, McKay always wanted to be there for the moment of discovery. John gripped his gun tighter and moved further into the room.

The door shut with a snap.

Half a second later he heard Ronon's "Sheppard!" in his ear.

John keyed the radio. "We're fine; the door slammed shut."

He was cut off by Curry's agitated voice, "My door closed as well. Could someone please get me out of here?"

"Ronon, you out of the other room?"

"Yep."

"Did that door close?"

"Nope."

"Good," John said. "Stay out and make sure no one else enters, just in case."

"Will do," Ronon said.

Anxiety lacing his voice, Curry called, "There's uh, some kind of gas coming in."

"Get down on the ground and breathe shallow," McKay directed.

Curry began coughing.

"Taylor, get him out of there," John demanded.

"Trying, sir."

Repeated muffled thumps—the Satedan was obviously throwing himself against the door. "Forget that, Ronon," John said, "use your gun!"

The thumps were replaced with muted blasts. "It's not working."

The coughing was getting more aggressive.

McKay held out a hand. "C-4, give me your C-4."

"I don't have any," John replied.

"What do you mean 'you don't have any'? You always carry that stuff."

"I didn't pack any, okay?"

"No, it is certainly not okay," McKay snapped. "I didn't think you went to the bathroom without C-4."

"I thought we were coming to look at a frickin' shed or—I don't know, you didn't tell me." John suspected he sounded just as frustrated and angry as the scientist. The thing he hated most about this galaxy was that they tended to lose a higher number of civilians most regular military bases. For John, not being able to do the one thing for which he had been assigned—protect his people—hit him harder than anything. He didn't do "helpless" well.

Now he was forced into impotent listening as Captain Taylor tried to comfort Curry while continuing his efforts to save him.

It took less than a minute for Dr. Curry's coughs to die away to tortured wheezing. Then silence.

~*~*~*~

Rodney leaned his forehead against the cool metal door. He hated feeling useless, especially when it resulted in someone getting hurt…or worse. Since he'd come to the Pegasus Galaxy, he'd lost too many friends, coworkers...whatever, yet he hadn't become inured or numb, like he sometimes wished he could be.

"Sheppard, any sign of gas in your room?" Ronon asked gruffly.

Rodney looked over at Sheppard, and they turned as one, scanning the room.

Sheppard answered, "No, looks clear so far. We're just stuck." He leaned against the door, kicking it with his heel.

Normally Rodney would have made a smart remark about mindless violence, but he actually wished he'd thought of it first. If he were to do it now, it would look as if he was copying Sheppard.

Without a word, Rodney moved to the side of the door, took off the side panel's cover, and started to finesse the inner workings. Now it was Sheppard's turn to look jealous that Rodney had something to do to keep him occupied.

"Curry's door is opening," Captain Taylor reported a few minutes later.

"Don't go in; it's probably not safe," Rodney said.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm getting my man out."

Sheppard blew out a breath. "Carry on."

The only sound in the room was the staccato beat of Rodney's fingers drumming. Any remaining hope regarding Curry's status was soon shattered.

"We extracted Dr. Curry," called Taylor. "He's gone."

"No sign of any gas," O'Reilly added.

"Maybe that's why it took so long for the door to open," Rodney thought aloud. "It cleared the gas away."

"So it only wanted to kill Curry and no one else?" Sheppard asked skeptically. "Rather specific." He thought for a second then clicked the radio. "Ronon?"

"Still here."

"I want you to run to the gate and contact Atlantis. Let Elizabeth know what's going on."

"And get C-4," Rodney said.

"And bring back some C-4," Sheppard dutifully relayed.

"On it."

"Taylor, you and O'Reilly take Curry to base camp and find whatever tools you can to try to get through this door."

"Yes, sir."

Rodney returned his attention to the panel. He flinched when Sheppard kicked the door again.

"Look, if you aren't going to be helpful, at least get out of my way."

"Fine," Sheppard ambled over to the other side of the room.

Rodney had just turned back to the mechanism when the door popped open. "Oh!"

"You did it," Sheppard said.

"But I didn't do anything," Rodney argued.

"Even better. Let's get the hell out of here."

Rodney gathered his stuff together and moved to the door. He squawked when it closed in his face.

"What the...?"

"Greetings, Travelers."

Rodney whipped around to see a shaky projection of a man appear, not nearly as realistic or precise as those used by the Ancients. This man had a full white beard with a mustache, and he wasn't wearing the regulation space-outfit that the Ancients seemed to prefer. Instead, he was dressed in homespun cloth of muted colors, which many of this system's inhabitants wore.

"In your midst is a Wraith-bringer, someone we cannot permit to live. We cannot allow their continued existence or for the curse of the Ancestors to be passed on. Our mission is to eradicate all the Harbingers of the Plague."

Rodney waved a hand in front of the man; there was no reaction. It wasn't interactive, just simple recitation.

The recording continued, "But we are not savages. We do not wish to harm innocents. In keeping, you are free to leave, but I'm afraid the Wraith-bringer must stay. You have one cycle in which to flee. Then anyone left in this room will be exterminated." The image faded out of existence.

The console near the middle of the room started flashing Ancient symbols.

"What does that mean?" Sheppard asked warily.

"It's a countdown clock."

"How much time is left?"

Rodney did some quick calculations. "I figure we have about an hour."

"About?" Sheppard asked.

"Fifty-eight minutes, forty-two seconds to be exact."

Sheppard nodded. "Yep, 'bout an hour."

Rodney rolled his eyes. He took out his laptop and attached it to the console.

"Not that it takes a great leap of imagination," Sheppard said, "but I'm guessing I'm the Wraith-bringer. It appears it was going to let you go."

"I guess the sensors can't pick up my scientifically-advanced ATA gene."

"And Curry?"

Rodney nodded. "He was a natural carrier. Not as strong as yours, obviously, but yes."

Sheppard was quiet for a moment. "What about the power spike?"

"Oh, yeah." Rodney had actually forgotten about that. "It was a lure." It was obvious, now that he thought about it.

"Like in fishing?"

"Yes, and it caught itself a great white," Rodney replied. "It was most likely programmed to react to the gene. Curry's weaker one set off a small power spike. Your stronger one made it jump for joy."

"Great." Sheppard radioed Taylor.

"Sir?"

"Yeah, we have another problem." The colonel briefly explained the situation.

"Understood, sir." Taylor sounded weary.

Sheppard started to wander around the room. "So the door only opens if I'm nowhere near it."

"Looks like."

"That's pretty high tech."

Rodney was insulted on behalf of science at large. "It's a freaking supermarket door."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Rodney."

"Jealous? How— I— You—"

"Sheppard," Ronon called.

"Saved by the bell," Sheppard said. "Go ahead, Ronon."

"I'm at the gate," the Satedan reported. "The symbols won't light up."

"Are you doing it right?" Rodney asked.

"I know how to do this, McKay."

"Oh, for the love of.... Let me check something; I'll get back to you." Mumbling at the incompetence of everyone around him, Rodney scrolled through page after page, trying to sort out the information. Straightening, he said, "The program is sending out a signal to nullify the DHD. As long as this trap is sprung and not completed, it won't work."

"How could it do that?" Sheppard asked.

"How would I know?" Rodney snapped. "I just started looking."

Sheppard held up his hands. "So-rry." He backed off and called Ronon. "You may as well come back. There's nothing you can do there."

"I can shoot it," Ronon offered.

"I appreciate that, buddy, but I really don't think that'll help. And you might actually make McKay's head explode."

"Might be worth it."

Sheppard chuckled, swallowing it when Rodney glared at him.

"Very amusing. Can I get back to work saving our lives now?"

"Don't let me stop you," Sheppard said. He was quiet for a blissful five minutes. Then, "So if this is an Ancient outpost, how'd they get it to kill anyone with the gene?"

Rodney sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't know. I guess they had someone smart enough to be able to twist it to their own needs." He smirked. "Too bad we can't get a hold of your girlfriend, Atlantis. She could tell this place what an awesome guy you are."

"I _am_ awesome," Sheppard said petulantly.

~*~*~*~

John made another lap around the room. There wasn't much he could do to help McKay, absolutely nothing, in fact. McKay was in the middle of the room, attached to his laptop and the console, trying to figure a way out of the mess his "supergene" had gotten them into. Yet another thing to blame on it. He was really racking up the points in the Pegasus Galaxy.

He checked his watch. The time was moving unbelievably quickly, leeching out faster than John thought it should. And, because of him, each moment took them closer and closer to killing McKay. Unfortunately, there would be no help from Atlantis—they were still two hours away from their expected check-in.

On his next circuit, John stopped in front of the door. He eyed it up and down. "Open the pod bay door, HAL."

"Did you really think that would work?"

John hadn't, really, but... "Worth a shot," he said, then returned to what he'd been doing for the last—he checked his watch, _Holy shit!_ —"Okay, Rodney, it's time to think about you leaving."

"All right." McKay paused for a moment in his typing, then resumed.

"Well?"

"Well what? I've thought about it; I'm done." McKay gestured at his computer. "Can I get back to work now?"

John huffed and threw up his hands. The next circuit of the room was probably twice as fast as his previous one. He was starting to get antsy. Not panicky, though. Lt. Colonel John Sheppard did not panic. He did, however, get nervous. And the more time ticked away, the more nervous he became. Especially since there was no reason for Rodney to die along with him.

"You'd probably have better luck fixing it from the outside."

McKay scoffed. "You and I both know as soon as my ATA gene-therapied ass leaves this room you're dead. So don't even try it."

Maybe McKay would listen to reason. He pulled his sidearm and aimed it at the scientist. "I want you to walk to the door, Rodney."

McKay didn't bother to look up. "You won't shoot me."

"You sure about that?"

Folding his arms over his chest, McKay smiled smugly.

John tilted his head and nodded. "You're right." He trained his weapon on the scientist's laptop.

The smile fell. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

McKay sized John up, and narrowed his eyes. "You _would_."

"If it'll save your life."

McKay retreated and gestured at the computer. "Fine, go ahead and shoot it, but I'm not budging. And you'll just sign both our death warrants."

John growled, wishing like hell he could shoot the damn machine. He jammed his gun back into his holster. "Goddammit, McKay. Stop being so fucking stubborn."

"You're one to talk." The scientist marched back to the laptop, resuming his efforts to save them.

"Think about what you're doing," John pleaded.

"The same thing as always…trying to save our asses."

"But—"

Slamming a hand down on the console, McKay shouted, "I _really_ need you to shut up so I can do something to prevent this from being the last eight minutes of my life."

Having already wasted how many precious seconds, John relented. "Fine." He moved to the wall opposite the exit and leaned against it, watching Rodney. Feeling the need to do something, he called Taylor.

He'd been giving the captain regular updates and receiving them in turn. Unfortunately, none of the tools or equipment they'd had at the base camp put even a scratch on the metal door. John was giving yet another report of "No progress" when Ronon returned.

John gauged the distance between Rodney and the door, wondering if he could shove McKay over to the door and yell for Ronon to grab him as it opened.

He had taken two steps toward Rodney when he found himself looking down the barrel of McKay's automatic. He stopped, more in shock than fear. When the hell did he learn to draw so fast?

"Not one more step, Colonel."

"McKay, you're not gonna shoot me."

McKay gave an empty laugh. "Unlike you, I have no compunction against shooting an innocent person to save their life. And my aim's been improving; I probably won't hit anything vital. Plus, it still gives you a better chance at survival than staying in here by yourself."

"Rodney, come on." John was getting dangerously close to begging. But he was desperate, willing to get on his knees if that was what it took. "I can't let you die."

"Well, that makes two of us. And if there is _anything_ I can do to prevent it—up until the last _second_ —I'm going to do it. So why don't you back the hell off, and let me do it. Because I am not leaving here without you!" By the end, McKay's voice had risen to a yell.

John saw nothing but determination in his teammate's eyes. He stood for a long second, then nodded, giving in. "You'd better come up with something or I'll kick your ass."

McKay barked a loud laugh. "Yes, you're very manly in the face of death. Now go away and let a real man work."

John gave another sit-rep to Taylor. Through the earpiece, he heard Ronon grunt. John wasn't sure if it was an _I'm about to chew through this metal door with my teeth_ grunt, or an _It's been nice being on your team_ grunt. With Ronon, it could go either way.

Looking at his watch, John realized they were down to their last few minutes. His eyes shot to the Countdown Clock, but since he didn't know Ancient letters or numbers, it didn't mean a damn thing to him. He was going strictly on what Rodney had told him…about an hour ago.

One minute twenty. Rodney's hands flew furiously across the keyboard, jamming the keys so hard, John was surprised they weren't coming out the bottom.

Thirty seconds. Rodney alternately cursed his laptop, the console, the people who'd set the trap, and finally ended on John's ancestor for getting busy with the frisky Ancient, enabling him to have the gene in the first place.

Ten seconds. Rodney's hands stalled. He panted loudly in the quiet room, and lifted his anguished gaze to John's. "I…I can't fix it."

John nodded. Gave a watery smile. "So long, Rodney."

The gas coursed into the room.

~*~*~*~

Rodney watched, resigned, as gas leaked into the room. He'd failed. He didn't bother falling to the floor; it hadn't helped Curry, it had merely stretched out his death, which Rodney had no intention of doing. He looked over at Sheppard.

The colonel had his eyes closed. Strange. Sheppard always seemed like a "stare death in the face" type. Then Rodney realized the gas wasn't flowing any more. In fact, it looked like it was starting to dissipate. "What the hell?"

Sheppard's eyes flew open. "I just...thought 'stop,'" he said, sounding as confused as Rodney that it had worked.

A thousand thoughts rattled in Rodney's mind. The primary one being maybe John had such a strong expression of the gene, it overrode the death command.

Then the gas started again.

Rodney yelled, "Think stop, think stop!"

Sheppard's eyes snapped shut and Rodney redoubled his efforts to get the damned door open. It was probably futile, but he wasn't going to waste the extra time the colonel had given them.

The radio activated; Taylor and Ronon fought for attention. They wanted to know if they were all right, concern clearly transmitted though the anxious voices. Rodney saw John flinch. He ran over and removed Sheppard's headset—he didn't want any distractions. "Just concentrate, Colonel. I have this."

He stepped away and keyed his radio. In a harsh whisper, Rodney snapped, "Shut up for five minutes."

Rodney searched through his until-now-useless brain for something that could take this advantage and get the hell out of this stinking place. And then it came to him: a possibility. Remote, but a possibility.

He called Ronon. "I'm going to need you to clear everyone out. We're going to try something, and I have no idea if it'll work. But I don't want anyone in our way."

"Consider it done," Ronon said.

Rodney turned off his laptop, packed everything up, and walked over to Sheppard. The colonel had begun to perspire with the strain of concentration. Rodney filed that in the back of his head to use at some future point when Sheppard made a comment about his lack of exercise. He would gently— _ha!_ —remind him that brain activity can be just as taxing.

"Colonel?" Rodney stood in front of Sheppard, hoping to gain his attention but not break his focus. "Keep thinking 'off' while I move you near the door. Don't try to help. Just let me guide you." He grasped the colonel's forearm and pulled him over to the door.

"Now what I want you to do is tell the system the gas worked, and you're dead. You have to try to mask yourself. Kind of like when you convince Atlantis to hide you from the life signs detectors." Rodney worked to keep his voice quiet and controlled. "Your ridiculously strong gene should override the bastardization of the program. The original system _wanted_ to help people with the gene, Colonel, which you have in abundance. You've already stopped the gas; you're just going one step further."

Sheppard nodded slightly.

"It may take a few minutes," Rodney continued, "because it may think it has to clear out the gas before it can open the door. But the entire time you must keep it steady, keep projecting that you're dead and gone." He kept one hand on the colonel's arm, hopefully grounding him. Although to be honest, it was perhaps more for Rodney's own comfort.

Sweat trickled down Sheppard's temples and coated his upper lip. His muscles started trembling, but Rodney held on, waiting it out, whatever the outcome might be.

It took so long that when it happened, Rodney just stared at the open door for a moment before processing what it meant. He didn't bother saying anything to Sheppard, merely towed him along, guiding him through the door and down the hall. He wasn't sure if they would truly be safe until they were out of the entire facility.

He was doing great until he reached the end of the hall…and the stairs leading up to freedom. Realizing he'd have to break Sheppard's concentration to get him out, Rodney stood there, dumbly looking at the steps as if they would turn into an escalator if he simply wanted it enough.

"I got him."

Rodney spun around, reaching for his nine-mil. Ronon. When he could talk without squeaking, Rodney said, "I thought I told you to leave."

Ronon shook his head. "You said make sure everyone else left."

"I meant you, too."

"That isn't what you said."

"Oh, for God's sake, let's just get out of here."

Carefully, Ronon picked up his colonel, cradling him as he strode up the stairs as swiftly as he could without disturbing his "cargo."

Rodney followed, tracking a wary eye, not trusting that they were out of danger.

They made it out into the entry room, then further still into fresh air. About twenty feet from the building, Ronon stopped and set Sheppard down.

~*~*~*~

John knew he'd been picked up and carried, but like everything else, he pushed it to the back of his mind. After Rodney had given him his instructions, John had sharpened all his focus into one goal: getting them out of the room alive.

He had found it increasingly hard to keep the deadly program from running, almost as if something was pushing back at him. John had to put more and more effort into controlling it. Who knew thinking could be so hard? _Dear God, please let me not have said that out loud because Rodney will never let me live it down if we survive._

He continued to hear Rodney in the background. It should be distracting, but he was used to McKay muttering. The scientist was like John's personal white noise generator, comforting in its own way. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up, but if Rodney was too much of a stubborn idiot to leave, John was going to do whatever it took.

Drifting in half-a-trance, he came out of it quick when his cheek started stinging. His eyes flew open to see Rodney shaking out his hand.

"Ow, ow, ow."

"What the hell was that for?" John asked, resting a hand on his bruised cheek.

"You wouldn't respond," McKay calmly replied.

"I was concentrating."

"Yeah, well, we're out. You're done."

"Hey, we're outside," John said, head sweeping side to side.

McKay rolled his eyes. "Are you sure you're not in Mensa?"

John could see the manic relief behind Rodney's light dash of sarcasm. He also knew once they were far enough removed from the situation, they wouldn't feel comfortable talking about it. So he looked directly at McKay and, for once, let all of his feelings show on his face. "Thanks, Rodney," he said sincerely.

Startled, McKay looked over at Ronon, back to John, then down at the ground. "Um, well," he cleared his throat, "you would've done the same for me."

"In a heartbeat." As if just noticing, John asked, "Where are Taylor and O'Reilly?"

Ronon rumbled his _Everything is back to normal_ grunt this time. "I ordered them back to base camp."

" _You_ ordered them?"

"Sure, why not?"

"You can't; you don't have the rank to order them."

Ronon shrugged. "They didn't seem to mind."

John blinked. "Huh. Okay, let's collect them and go home." His body trembling from its ordeal, John was well aware of Rodney and Ronon staying glued to his side, ready to lend their support if it was necessary. While he appreciated the concern, John was determined not to need their assistance. McKay didn't need any more ammunition.

When they entered the camp, Captain Taylor and Sergeant O'Reilly snapped to attention, not batting an eye at their colonel's miraculous survival.

"Good to see you, sir," Taylor said.

"Good to be seen." John nodded back. "You ready to go home?"

"Yes, sir."

With the greatest care, the two military men picked up the makeshift stretcher holding Curry's body and started walking back to the stargate. Ronon offered to help, but they politely declined. John wasn't surprised; it was what he would've done as well. It was the final sign of respect they could give their fallen teammate.

John and his team fell back to watch their six. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he noticed Rodney had been quiet too long. That usually meant the scientist was inside his own head, over-thinking things. So John stepped sideways, "accidentally" running into him.

"Hey, you were going to shoot me," he said accusingly.

McKay shrugged. "You were asking for it."

"I'm hungry." Ronon pushed between them.

"Maybe you should've gone with Teyla after all."

"'Least she woulda fed me." It was something to see a seven foot tall Satedan pout.

Suddenly, John realized something that had been bothering him. "What about the DHD?"

McKay glanced over. "What about it?"

"Doesn't work," Ronon reminded him.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I figure Atlantis will dial in once we miss our scheduled check-in, and we'll have them send a jumper through. We can use the jumper's DHD to get back."

"What about the next unsuspecting group that visits this planet?"

"Then we'll use the jumper to blow the crap out of the installation. As soon as the jamming signal is cut off, the DHD should work good as new."

"Cool," Ronon and John said together.

"Besides," McKay said, "it'll be my pleasure to wipe that place off the face of this planet."

John purposely didn't ask whether McKay thought there might be booby-traps on more worlds, and he supposed Rodney was doing the same. There was no way to prepare for it; they'd just deal with it if and when it happened again. Personally, John was hoping whatever race set the trap had died out before they had set any more. Of course, with his luck....

Either way, it didn't matter; Rodney and his team would be right there beside him.


End file.
